


Stopping the Presses

by ficbear



Series: Gunsel [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Chauffeurs, Comeplay, Facials, Fingerfucking, Glasses, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Newspapers, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Outdoor Sex, Rentboys, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it looks like I'm the carrot and Joe's the stick, just like old times. Now, I'm not relishing the idea of getting up close with this hack, but if it's for the boss, I'll do it. So I nod, trying to keep the queasiness out of my voice. "You want me to go and ask this guy nicely to knock it off?"</p><p>"No, you won't get anywhere with the journalist, he wouldn't give you a second glance. But his employer would." The boss laughs, low and nasty enough to give me the shivers. "He'd give you a second, and a third, and then some."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stopping the Presses

My palms are just starting to get damp as I step out of the lift. I hold the documents carefully, trying not to let the paper touch anything but my fingertips. I'm always nervous when I'm on my way to the boss's office, even now. I've been with him for well over a year, and each time I report to the office I don't know whether I'm going to get paid, sent on a job, beaten up, fucked, or all of the above. He likes to keep us on our toes. So I'm already tense as I make my way there, and when I'm a few paces away and I hear raised voices coming from inside, right through the closed door like it's made of paper, that just stops me dead.

Well, I say 'raised voices', but it's really only the one voice that's raised. I can hear the boss talking calmly, but every time he stops talking for a minute Joe's voice swells up to fill the silence again like he's trying to shout the walls down.

"Who does he think he is?" Joe says, and for a brief awful moment I wonder if that 'he' is me. "So he writes for a national paper, so he's a big name, so what? I ought to go down there and–"

"Sit down, Joe." The boss cuts him off, shuts him up as easily as if he'd clamped a hand over his mouth. I've seen him do that, and it always impresses me. Just a look, a few words, and he puts the cork back in Joe's bottle like magic. "You won't go down there, not yet."

There's a pause, a minute or so of silence, and I take that minute to try to calm down. I don't know who's lit Joe's fuse, and I'm not relishing the thought of interrupting this discussion, but at least it isn't me they're talking about. I should knock on the door now, make my entrance while there's a lull in the conversation, pretend like I haven't heard a thing. But I _have_ heard, and as stupid as it is, I want to hear more. Whatever conclusion the boss comes to, I want to hear it. So I just stand and wait and listen.

"But boss, he's put your name down there in black and white, like he thinks you're just going to take it, like he thinks he's untouchable." Joe starts up again, and I can hear him pacing as he talks, up and down, faster and faster, as he works himself up into a boiling rage again. "But he's not. You let me go down there, boss, and I'll show him–"

"You're not going down there, Joe. Not until we've exhausted our other options." The boss's voice is steady, firm and cold. He's angry, I've been around him long enough to recognise that, but where Joe gets himself on fire with rage, the boss just gets colder, like he's freezing over a little more, and when he's really furious it's like there's suddenly a glacier bearing down on you, ready to crush the life out of you. I can just about feel the chill of that glacier now, and I'm half-considering turning around and going home, when the boss gives his next order. "Go and get one of the boys," he says, and before I know what's happening, the door is opening and I've got Joe standing in front of me with a face like thunder.

"What do you want?" Joe says, looming over me like a six-foot guard-dog.

I stand there open-mouthed for a couple of seconds, before my tongue starts working again. "Documents," I say, holding the paperwork out in front of me. "Documents the boss wanted."

Joe snatches the papers out of my hands and gives me a shove backwards. "Alright, now get lost."

"No," the boss calls out from inside the office. "Let him bring them to me himself."

Joe gives me the documents and stands aside. He's doing as he's told, but I get the feeling that if he was let off the leash for even a minute, he'd make sure I was limping when I left here. And those nerves of mine don't get any calmer as I make my way into the office. If the boss wants to see me in person right now, then either he's going to throw me at this newspaper problem or he just wants a punching bag around to give him and Joe some stress relief. From the look in his eyes as I approach his desk, I'm guessing it's probably both.

I hand the documents over, and the boss doesn't even look at them before he puts them away in a drawer. He just looks at me, long and hard, and the room fills up with silence thick enough that I wish Joe would start complaining again, just to break that tension. Finally the boss folds his arms, and leans back in his chair.

"Joe's not happy," he says, and I think _no kidding_ , but I keep my mouth shut and just listen. "Do you know why he's not happy?"

"No, sir." It's not an outright lie, but it's close enough that my palms get a little damper.

"Look at this," Joe interrupts, shoving a newspaper into my hand. My eyes pick out the boss's name straight away, and I only have to skim the story to see what's got Joe so worked up. And the fact that he's standing here in the office at all is a testament to Joe's obedience, because if I were in his position I'd have gone down to see this journalist without asking for permission. I'd have gone and put a stop to this guy's stories, and damn the consequences. Which would have created a nasty mess for the boss to tidy up, so it's a good job I'm in my position and Joe's in his. For all his sounding off, Joe's twice the professional I'll ever be.

"You can see why he's not happy, can't you?" The boss continues, not waiting for my answer. "And if Joe's not happy, I'm not happy. I like my boys to be happy."

I put the newspaper down on the desk, face down so I don't have to see that story staring up at me. "What do you need me to do, boss?"

"Joe wants to go and have a word with this journalist, but I don't like that idea. It's too loud. Too messy. I'll accept loud and messy if I have to, but not until I've tried a quieter approach."

So it looks like I'm the carrot and Joe's the stick, just like old times. Now, I'm not relishing the idea of getting up close with this hack, but if it's for the boss, I'll do it. So I nod, trying to keep the queasiness out of my voice. "You want me to go and ask this guy nicely to knock it off?"

"No, you won't get anywhere with the journalist, he wouldn't give you a second glance. But his employer would." The boss laughs, low and nasty enough to give me the shivers. "He'd give you a second, and a third, and then some."

And now Joe's laughing too, so whatever joke the boss is making must be flying right over my head. I just nod and smile, and when the boss gives me a scrap of paper with a name and an address on it, I put it in my pocket carefully like it's priceless. I'd really prefer to take this journalist apart myself, or at least to watch Joe do the honours, but if I can get friendly with the owner and have the guy blacklisted, that's a close second.

 

* * *

 

I spot him as soon as I walk through the door. Late thirties, maybe a little older, with fair hair cut short and severe. Broad and tall, big enough that he looks like he could break me without even trying. Sharp grey suit, eyes to match, and glasses that don't do anything to blunt them. Just like he looks in the photograph Joe gave me, only in the flesh there's a cloud of tension around him, like everyone within arm's reach is walking a tightrope and he's sitting in the middle waiting for one of them to fall. I can feel that tension from all the way across the room, and it gets the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, the way these things always do. I've done plenty of these jobs for the boss where I could take it or leave it, and I've done them well, but it always helps to have a bit of extra motivation. This time around I've got almost more motivation than I know what to do with.

It doesn't take him long to spot me, either. Before I'm a dozen feet away, he's gotten a good look at me, and thrown me one of those long, hard stares that might as well come with a click of the fingers and a flash of his wallet. He's sitting at a table at the far end of the club, holding court while half a dozen other middle-aged guys sit around him, laughing and nodding like they couldn't agree with him more. From the looks of them, any one of those guys could make this a profitable evening for me, but even if I was here under my own steam I'd pass them by and head straight for Bernhardt. So I make my way over to him and stand by his side until he acknowledges me, which he does, but only after a long enough wait to make sure everyone at the table knows how low down the pecking order I am.

"Mr Bernhardt?" I say, when he finally looks at me.

"And you are?"

"Oh, you wouldn't know my name. But you'd know my employer's." I smile, and pass him one of the boss's business cards. "He'd like very much for us to have a conversation."

He does know that name, I can see that much by the way his mouth twitches when he reads the card, but beyond that he doesn't react. He just puts the card down on the table, face down, and takes out a cigarette. I give it a moment, just long enough that I don't seem over-eager, and then I bend forward and light it for him. I can feel the rest of the table watching me, but I keep my eyes on Bernhardt. He looks at me again, smiling slightly, and then he waves over a waiter who looks like he's hoping to throw me out.

"Show this young man over to my booth," Bernhardt says, and now the waiter looks downright disappointed. "I'll be across later."

The booth is close enough that I can still see Bernhardt's table from there, but far enough away that there's no chance of me overhearing anything I shouldn't. So I sit there quietly, and after a few minutes the waiter comes back to set a glass down on my table. I'm surprised at first, but then I realise it's only water in the glass, and that makes more sense. He won't leave me neglected, but I'm not getting any more than the bare minimum. _That's_ the kind of cold touch I was expecting. So I sit there and drink my water, watching Bernhardt jostling the strings of those puppets gathered around him. There's more nodding, more laughing, and then every so often once of those guys stops dead, his face falls like he's just been handed his marching orders, and the whole table seems to grind to a halt. And then Bernhardt says something else, smiles, or calls the waiter over with more drinks, and the whole bunch of them seem to come alive again. It's entertaining enough to watch that I don't really mind the hour or so he keeps me waiting.

By the time Bernhardt eventually gets rid of his cronies, I'm sitting holding an empty glass and wondering whether I could persuade him to give me a trial run on my own tonight, in advance of the bigger entertainment I've got planned. I know, the boss said this guy watches, he doesn't touch, I know that's my angle. But still, I wouldn't mind if Bernhardt fancied deviating from his usual routine. I wouldn't mind at all.

"So," he says, sitting down across from me. "I gather your employer has some concerns he wants to raise about my paper."

" _Concerns_ , exactly. He's concerned, for instance, that there might be an issue with the standard of your quality control. Inaccurate reporting, factual errors, careless mistakes, that sort of thing."

"Is that right?" Bernhardt smiles slightly, but the rest of his face is as cold and hard as it was when I walked in here. "And I imagine these errors all originate from one particular source."

"That's right," I nod, smiling like he's my new best friend, and I take the newspaper clipping out of my pocket and slide it across the table to him. "It'd be a shame if one loose cannon damaged the reputation of your whole enterprise, wouldn't it?"

He just looks at me, and inside I'm kicking myself for going too far. I'm not here to throw my weight around, I'm here to apply some gentle persuasion, and there's nothing gentle about the line I just gave him. For all the subtlety I've shown, the boss might have well just sent Joe down here instead. But then Bernhardt smiles right back at me, so I guess somehow I haven't screwed up too badly after all.

"That particular loose cannon is on its way to obsolescence. Another few years, and it'll be out of commission entirely." He takes out another cigarette, and I lean in like clockwork to light it. "Tell me why I should hurry that process along."

"A man in your position comes under a lot of pressure, doesn't he? A lot of stress. My employer knows that, and that's another one of his concerns. He's concerned that you might not have adequate opportunities to relieve that stress."

"And so he's sent you to take care of that?" He looks like he's interested, but not that interested. As if he likes the look of me, alright, but that isn't quite enough, and luckily for us both I know exactly why.

"Oh, it won't be just me, Mr Bernhardt. That'd be a bit on the lonely side, wouldn't it? No, my employer understands your requirements very well." And _now_ he looks really interested, now he knows he's going to get enough boys to make a show worth watching. He likes the look of me, but he'll like me a lot more once I've got some friends to play with. I lean forward a little, toying with the edge of my glass. "He'll send two or three of my colleagues each time, enough to make a really sociable evening. In fact, I can call up a couple and have them join us tonight, if you'd like."

"Alright, then," Bernhardt says, standing up, and all of a sudden I'm reminded just how much taller than me he is. "Use the club's phone and call your friends, have them meet us at my house. And while you're there, you can call your employer and tell him I'll think about his offer."

I phone the boss first, and when I tell him what Bernhardt said, he sounds unimpressed, like I'm just telling him what he already knows. He must have been certain he'd get his way. But certain or not, he still warns me that I'd better put on a decent show if I know what's good for me, so I guess if he had any doubts, they were about me and not Bernhardt. When I call up the 'colleagues' I'm bringing in, a couple of hoods named Rick and Leo, they sound a whole lot happier to hear from me than the boss did. And I don't blame them, they got a tidy sum just for being on call tonight, and they'll get the same again once they've finished the job, so no wonder they're raring to go.

When I leave the club, Bernhardt is already in his car, and the chauffeur is standing outside giving me the eye. He flashes me a smile as he opens the car door, and since he's tall and dark and he fills out that smart uniform nicely, I give him a smile right back. The car doesn't look any less big and flashy on the inside than it does on the outside, and once I'm sitting on the backseat next to Bernhardt, it feels even more oversized. Or maybe I feel undersized. I'm far from scrawny, but this thing makes me feel tiny, like I've gotten a little more breakable just by getting into it. Which I suppose is the intention.

The only kind of small talk I can do is baiting and backchat, and that won't get me anywhere tonight, so I just sit there quietly as the chauffeur drives us out of town. I might be keeping my mouth shut, but with the way I keep finding myself glancing across at Bernhardt, I figure my eyes are probably doing more than enough talking to make up for that. I've never been any good at pretending not to be interested, even when I'm putting up a fight it's always obvious to everyone in the room how much I want whatever it is I'm resisting. So I reckon Bernhardt knows exactly how much I'm looking forward to this job, and exactly how much I'd like it if he took matters into his own hands.

So when he tells the chauffeur to pull over, about ten minutes out of town and far enough away that the road is lined with trees and secluded little clearings, that gives me the chills. Maybe he's going to get a piece of me himself. Maybe he's going to grab my hair, shove my head down and fuck my mouth right here on the backseat of his car. Maybe he'll just sit back and order me to get to work, while his chauffeur sits there watching everything.

"We've got time for a little diversion," Bernhardt says, and before he's even given the order, the chauffeur gets out of the car and opens the door on my side.

"Here?" I ask, as I get out.

Bernhardt gives me a look like it's the stupidest question in the world. "Here."

Alright, so I'm not getting exactly what I wanted, but looking at that chauffeur I can't complain. He's barely closed the car door before he grabs hold of me and pulls me close, close enough that I can feel just how much he's enjoying this part of his job. He keeps one hand on the back of my neck and slides the other one down to cup my ass, and when I grind up against his leg he just laughs and pulls me up into a kiss, hungry and wet and rough. We go at it like a couple of teenagers, groping and rubbing up against each other greedily, until the chauffeur pulls back a little and puts his hands on my shoulders.

"Kneel down," he says, keeping his voice low enough that I doubt Bernhardt can hear a word. "And turn round a bit so he can see what you're doing."

I drop to my knees, and by the time I've gotten into position the chauffeur is pressing the tip of his cock to my lips, rubbing it against my mouth like he's trying to convince me to open up. Which is novel, because normally it'd be an order or a smack to the face that convinced me, but I'll give him a pass for that, since he's being so helpful. Considering the way things usually go for me, the fact that he's helping at all is pretty damn novel in itself. So I get to work sucking his cock, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Bernhardt through the car window, not moving, not doing anything at all except watching. That riles me a bit. If I'm performing, I want to see my audience enjoying himself, even if a bit of viewer participation is out of the question. But he just sits there watching, and every second that goes by without him making a move makes me a little more determined to get a reaction out of him.

"That's right, lick it, let him get a good look at your tongue," the chauffeur says, pulling me back by the hair. I do as I'm told and lick my way up slowly along the length of his shaft, and when I get to the head of his cock I lap at it like I can't get enough. All the while, the chauffeur is making little encouraging noises, telling me what a good job I'm doing, angling my head this way and that so that his boss gets the very best view he can. This guy's wasted as a chauffeur, he should be in front of a camera. The thought of that makes me laugh. Maybe if the boss ever gets a finger in that particular business, we should poach this guy away from Bernhardt.

"Keep your mouth open," he says, and this time it sounds like a command, not a helpful hint. His grip on my hair tightens, and his other hand works over the shaft of his cock in short, quick strokes like he's working to a deadline. "Don't swallow until I tell you to," he orders, and a couple of strokes later he's coming all over my face, letting it spray across my cheeks and into my open mouth. I keep still, keeping my tongue stretched out until it's soaked in the chauffeur's come, until my chin is dripping with it and my nose is full of the scent of it. Then after what feels like an hour he finally gives me the nod, and I close my mouth and swallow, keeping my eyes fixed on Bernhardt as I do it. I'm a fool, because deep down I'm hoping the sight of me spattered with come will change his mind. I'm hoping he'll open the car door, order me to kneel there and suck his cock, make me wash down the come I've already swallowed with a fresh helping of his own. But he just smiles that slight smile, and nods to the chauffeur.

"Come on." The chauffeur passes me a handkerchief, and pats me on the shoulder as I start to wipe my face down. "Let's get going, before Mr Bernhardt gets impatient."

I slip back into the seat beside Bernhardt, and as we pull out of the lay-by I can't help wondering what would happen if he _did_ get impatient. Probably just a sudden end to the evening and an awkward conversation in which I had to explain to the boss how I managed to botch the deal. But still, I can't help thinking about how it'd feel to have those big hands wrapped around my throat, or slamming down across my face, or gripping my hair nice and tight while he did whatever he wanted to me. I keep glancing at his hands over and over, letting my eyes run over his fingers, his knuckles, the thick muscle of his palms, and each time I have to struggle to snap out of it and remind myself that what Bernhardt wants to do to me is precisely _nothing_.

I don't know how long we've been driving by the time we get to his house. Long enough for more than a couple of those useless daydreams, anyway. Bernhardt gets out first, and when I follow him out onto the drive, the chauffeur puts his hand on the small of my back, just a subtle little touch, but enough to make me disappointed when he doesn't follow us into the house. Maybe I'll look him up, once all this is over. Maybe the boss really could poach him for something. At the very least I reckon I could help him keep busy on his day off.

"My colleagues should be here soon," I say, looking at my watch and feeling about as out of place in this fancy hallway as I've ever felt in my life. "Fifteen minutes, maybe thirty if there's traffic."

Bernhardt looks at me, runs his gaze down over the grass stains and gravel on the knees of my trousers, up over the spots of dried come speckling my shirtfront and tie, and by the time his eyes have reached my face again I'm burning up with embarrassment.

"Take a shower," he orders, gesturing at the stairs. "Up there, turn left."

"Sure," I say, and I can feel his eyes on me all the way up the stairs.

The bathroom is about as oversized and intimidating as everything else tonight. If I felt out of place in the hallway, I feel downright _wrong_ in here, like a bit of litter that blew in through the window. But after a couple of minutes under the hot water that feeling starts to wash away, and when Bernhardt appears in the doorway, all of a sudden I'm not thinking about how roomy this shower is or how glitzy the fittings are. I'm just watching him watching me, following his gaze down across my body, and letting my hands walk the same path. He's only wearing a dressing gown, so maybe he's going to join me, maybe I'll get what I want after all. More than enough room for two in this ridiculous shower, after all. I just need to get him interested enough that he'll make an exception for me. It's not likely, but it's worth a try.

So I soap up my hands and let him watch me sliding them down across my chest and stomach, down over my hipbones and across my thighs, down to my shins and ankles, turning as I bend over so that he gets a good, long look at the rear view. I let him watch me wrapping my fingers around my cock, stroking it slowly, taking my time like I could do this all night. I keep my grip loose, though. I'd barely last a few minutes if I was really going at it, what with him watching me over the top of his glasses like that. Sometimes I think I enjoy these jobs too much to be really good at it.

I slip my left hand down behind my back and rub my fingertips along the cleft of my ass, giving myself just the lightest touch, and that seems to grab Bernhardt's attention. He folds his arms as he watches me, leaning against the doorframe and looking at me hard enough that it feels like I've been speared right through. It might be a subtle reaction, but I seize on it and run with it, turning and spreading my legs so that he can see everything. At this angle I can't quite see his face, I can't see whether he's still enjoying the view, but with my fingertips rubbing and stroking and circling around my ass, it feels good enough that I don't really mind. Naked and soaped up and wet like this, I feel about as vulnerable as I could possibly be. He could grab me and have me impaled on his cock in about two seconds flat if he wanted to, and when I moan quietly against the shower wall, it's because of the thought of that more than anything my fingers are doing. I'm just about to turn around a little more, to see if I can get my self positioned just right to watch Bernhardt's face while I finger myself, when the doorbell rings.

"Dry off and answer it." He walks off, tossing the order over his shoulder as he goes. "Bring them up to the bedroom."

So much for my powers of seduction.

I put a towel around my waist and make my way down the stairs. Somehow it doesn't surprise me that he's making me answer the door. He's probably got staff to do this, and he's probably made a point of giving them the night off especially, just so he can send me down here half-naked. I'll say one thing for Bernhardt, he's very careful to make sure you never forget your place around him, not for one second. So I go down and open the door like a good boy, and when Rick and Leo see me, scrubbed clean and wrapped up in a monogrammed towel, they can barely contain a laugh.

"Look at him, he looks like a kept boy." Leo nudges Rick, and turns back to me with a smirk. "You going to get some chocolates and flowers after this?"

Rick just grins and puts his arm around my waist. "Nothing wrong with that, it'd make a nice change of pace considering what his usual day's work is like, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah," I grin right back at him, and give his arm a squeeze. I can feel the muscle under that leather jacket, and that gives me a thrill like it always does. "Go on and get upstairs before this turns into a solo job."

When the three of us go into the bedroom, Bernhardt is already sitting back in one of those big leather armchairs that looks like it belongs in a professor's study, and he gives each of them the once-over long and hard, just like he did with me. He seems to like the look of them, which is a relief, because when I pick out boys for someone else it always feels like a gamble. I mean, my definition of 'cheap and trashy' might not be universal. But it looks like I've hit the right note with these two. Rick's all tattoos, muscle and pomade, and Leo's the kind of bottle-blond who looks like he'd have your wallet on his way out. But as cheap as they look, these two are reliable, and they make a good double-act. I've gotten in the middle of them a few times now just for fun, and I've never woken up in their bed anything less than happy, so I reckon they're going to turn tonight into a sure thing.

All three of us stand there, waiting for Bernhardt to give the word, and when I look over at him he just glares at me like I'm trying his patience, waves his hand toward the bed, and says "Proceed."

As soon as he's given the order, the other two all but jump me, and before I know what's hit me I've got Rick's tongue in my mouth and Leo grinding up against my ass. One of them pulls the towel off me, but I'm too busy trying to get Rick's jacket and shirt off to keep track of whose hands are running over my ass and whose are gripping and stroking my cock. Both of them are shirtless by the time I drop to my knees, and I've only given Rick's cock a few strokes of my tongue when Leo grabs my hair and pulls me around to face him. I'm stifling a laugh as I slide my lips down around his cock. I'd forgotten how competitive they can be.

"Hey, I'm getting lonely over here," Rick says, and when I look over my shoulder at him he's already stripped off, so I guess he's a lot more graceful and quiet about it than I usually am. He lies down on the bed, on his back right in the middle of the huge thing, and before he's even lifted a finger to beckon us, Leo's clambering up between his legs and sucking hungrily on Rick's cock like he doesn't already get it every day. So now _I'm_ the one who's getting lonely.

I glance over to Bernhardt as I move around the bed, and his expression is about as cool as ever, but I can see clearly now just how hard he is, so I'm taking that as a thumbs-up. When I kneel next to Rick's head and slide my cock into his mouth, the wet heat of it kind of catches me off-guard, and I moan loud enough to get a laugh from him that's about halfway to a groan. He takes it so easily, takes the whole length of my cock so smoothly that I feel like I should have apprenticed under the guy. With a mouth like that, I need to careful I don't get carried away, and maybe I shouldn't keep looking across to where Bernhardt is sitting, because I reckon if he does open up that robe and start really enjoying himself I'll be spent in about three seconds flat.

As I'm fucking Rick's mouth, he gives a sudden groan and brings his knees up to his chest, and I can't resist glancing over to see what Leo's doing that's got him so hot. That blond head is almost buried between Rick's legs, and as he tilts his hips up a little more I can see Leo's tongue working over his ass, which I guess explains why Rick is bunching up the expensive bedclothes in his fists and moaning so loud I can feel it vibrating through me.

"You want it?" Leo stops just long enough to get the words out, and when his tongue starts lapping and swirling and circling around the rim of Rick's ass again, teasing the tight little muscle until it's glistening with saliva, it looks good enough that I can almost feel it myself. He pauses again, letting his fingertips take over where his tongue left off. "Yeah, you want it bad, don't you? Barely even need lube, you're so wet and relaxed."

Rick gives another moan and grabs hold of my hips, pulling me closer so that he's taking my cock all the way again. "I guess that means he wants it in both ends at once," I laugh. Leo is already reaching over to grab the lube off the bedside table as I pull out of Rick's mouth and rub the shaft of my cock against his cheek. "Get up onto your hands and knees, then, and we'll give you what you want."

He doesn't waste any time, and before Leo has even finished stripping off, Rick is on all fours, hurrying him along with a smirk. "Come on," he says over his shoulder, arranging himself diagonally across the bed just right, so that Bernhardt can see pretty much everything. "You keep me waiting, you'll pay for it later."

It's the perfect position to give our audience a good view, and kneeling at the head of the bed puts me in just the right position to keep an eye on that audience. From what I can tell Bernhardt's liking this just fine. Those big hands of his are still on the arms of the chair, a good few inches away from where I'd like them to be, but he's still watching us intently. So I keep going, holding Rick's hair in both hands and fucking his mouth nice and hard while Leo nails his ass, and pretty soon Rick is making the kind of noises that mean if we don't give him a break soon he's going to come all over that fancy bedspread.

"You get the feeling we're doing all the work?" Leo says, pulling out and flashing me a smile as he lays down on the bed. I follow suit, and as soon as I've pulled my cock out of Rick's mouth, the two of them are tangled up together, kissing and groping each other like they haven't touched all night. They pull me in between the two of them just as greedily, and I just go with it as they manoeuvre me around. Rick guides me into position between Leo's legs, lubing us both up like he could do it with his eyes closed, keeping his hand tight around the base of my cock as I push forward and slide into Leo's ass, holding onto me right up until the last moment. I can feel Rick's cock pressing against me as I move, and sure enough his fingers slip inside me as soon as I start to fuck Leo.

"You going to make sure I get as good as I give, are you?" I grin over my shoulder at him, slowing down enough to let him slide those fingers out of me and line his cock up to take their place.

"Yeah, and I won't take it easy on you, either." Rick says, giving me a slap on the ass as he pushes forward. That's the nearest to rough stuff I'm going to get tonight, and I must be feeling pretty hungry for it, because even one slap makes me moan. He wasn't kidding, either. He barely gives me a minute to get used to it before he starts fucking me, giving it to me at the kind of brutal pace I can't help but pass on to Leo. I've got Rick's hands around my waist, and Leo's legs hooked over my shoulders, and between the force of Rick's cock hammering into me and the tight heat of Leo's ass around my own, I feel like the only thing missing is someone fucking my throat. I glance over to Bernhardt, telling myself I'm just checking he's still interested, but we all know what I'm hoping for. He just gives me a cold smile like he's reading my mind, and keeps right on sitting there, watching, out of reach.

"Like that, just like that," Leo says, and when I look back at him, he's stroking a hand over his cock as fast as I'm fucking him, looking up at me with the question clear as day in his eyes. So I give him the nod, and I keep my pace up and my get my mind back on the job as he starts to come, because I don't want to get dragged along with him, not yet. He tenses around me and groans, and when his come arcs up between us and spatters across his chest and stomach, he keeps his eyes fixed on mine like I'm the only guy in the room. Which makes holding off a lot trickier, but I can't deny it makes for a good show.

Once he's finished, I trail my fingertips along his chest, coating them in his come. When I bring my fingers to my lips he gives me a hungry look like he's ready to go again right now. I let him watch me sucking his come off each of my fingers in turn, and when I get to the last one I look over to Bernhardt, just to make sure Leo's not the only one enjoying the sight. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't imagining that the fingers in my mouth are his, not mine, but that won't get me anywhere. So I just scoop up another few fingers' worth of come, and this time I bend down to kiss Leo as soon as I've licked them clean, letting him taste himself on my tongue.

"You keep going like that and he'll be hard again in no time, and then we'll be here all night," Rick says, close to my ear, and I can hear in his voice just how close he is. "I'm about ready to wrap this up, if you are."

Oh, I'm ready, alright, and it only takes another few thrusts before I'm pulling out of Leo and letting it spray right across his ass and thighs. He looks so good like that, spread wide open and dripping with come, that for a moment I forget all about Bernhardt and putting on a good show. For a minute, _I'm_ the only audience that matters, and it's only once I've finished that it even occurs to me to wonder if Bernhardt got as good a view as I did. I'm cringing a bit inside as I look over to where Bernhardt's sitting, because if I've just spoiled this all by getting carried away, I'm going to regret it tomorrow morning. But Bernhardt looks as engrossed as ever, leaning back and resting his chin on one hand like he's watching a film, and _that_ sight gives me an even bigger thrill.

So now it's just the big finish. I give Rick the nod, and he pulls out just like we'd planned, while me and Leo get into position in front of him. Both of us kneel there, faces turned up and lips parted, while Rick gives himself the last few strokes by hand. He comes right on time, as if someone just flicked a switch, and his aim is perfect, too. By the time he's finished, both me and Leo are spattered with come, and he's standing over us red-faced, breathless and grinning like he just won a race.

Bernhardt stands up, and for a minute I think _finally, this is it, he's going to let one of us take care of him and if I'm lucky it'll be me_.

"Get cleaned up and go," he says, giving me that cool, slight smile again. "And you can tell your employer I'm happy with the arrangement; he won't have any more unpleasant surprises in his morning paper."

 

* * *

 

I lean against the side of the phone box, playing everything that happened tonight over again in my mind, while I listen to the ringing tone. It rings long enough for me to get a little nervous, and when the boss finally picks up, my carefully rehearsed line goes right out the window.

"The deal's on, it went great, Bernhardt's more than happy," I babble, in a great stupid rush of words that won't stop. "So you can tell Joe he can stop polishing his gun, he won't be painting the town red tonight."

There's a few seconds of silence, just long enough for me to start regretting making this call before I've really calmed down. And then the boss does one of those nasty, sharp laughs that only sounds worse over the phone.

"Alright, come by the office tomorrow to pick up your bonus." He hangs up before I've said another word, and when I bring my hand up to rub my forehead there's a sheen of sweat on it. I put the phone down and just stand there for a minute, wondering if I've let my mouth run away with me too far this time. Wondering if I should call again and apologise. Wondering exactly what this bonus is going to be. I stand there and wonder a lot of things, and when Rick blasts the car horn to get my attention I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Are you coming or what?" Leo calls out, hanging out of the backseat window, and when I run back over to the car he gives me a smirk like he knows exactly how that phone call played out. I settle back into the seat beside him, and he's got his arm around my shoulders before we've pulled away from the kerb. "Thought you might have to go in and report in person," he says, sliding his other hand up under my shirt, "which would have been a pity."

"Hey," Rick laughs, watching us in the mirror, "that's not fair, getting started while I'm stuck here driving."

"You just keep your eyes on the road," I grin at him. "You'll get yours, don't worry."

Rick just shakes his head and accelerates. I'm as eager to go again as either of them, but when I lean back and close my eyes it's Bernhardt's face that I see, like he's watching us even now. So maybe spending the night with these two won't get that thought out of my mind, maybe it'll gnaw at me like these things always do. But at least I'll have fun trying.


End file.
